Atop Her Battlement

Ballad Format: ABCB 8686

Atop her marble battlement,
She sways like candle light.
Piano rings across the land,
Creating such a sight.

She moves in tune, her feet are grace,
The clouds begin to close
Then to herself she simply states:
"I am a wilting rose."

The wind begins its ghostly howl,
Creating such a chill.
It blows throughout the battlement,
Its cries becoming shrill.

Atop her marble battlement,
Defiantly she sways.
The howls add much to piano,
Her cheating husband plays.

Her face is marred by freezing tears,
But dance, she cannot halt.
"If cold my husband thinks of me,
It has to be my fault."

The snow begins its soft decent,
It sticks to hair and gown.
She watches husband play for her;
The wench from out of town.

Atop her marble battlement,
She stands outside her house.
She hears them play and dance and kiss,
The harlot and her spouse.

A foot of snow and still she stands,
She's freezing to her knees.
Her husband plays a dirty game,
He cannot hear her pleas.

The hours pass but cold does not,
She takes a frosty breath.
And as this woman sees it all,
She freezes to her death.